A Ranger's Redemption
by William War
Summary: twelve years have passed since Caesar was killed, and the NCR is threatened by an unforeseen and invisible foe... the only man who is qualified for the mission has long since faded away and succumbed to his own demons. Is this the end of the New California Republic, or just another chapter in the life of its greatest hero?
1. Chapter 1

The lights from the strip lit up the night sky. The very symbol of corruption and sin had finally been secured by the NCR, at the expense of one man. The war between Caesar's Legion and the NCR was long over. It seemed to be quieting down for the Mojave, now that most hostile factions had been crushed, and the chaos that had once engulfed the area was just a fading memory. For one man though, the memory was etched into his flesh and mind, and nothing can make him forget… the med-x just numbs the pain and the whiskey helps him forget, if only for the night.

The floor of the cocktail lounge was littered with empty bottles, used syringes and stomped out cigarette butts, built up from several years of drunken pity and inebriated rage. Kane sat in his chair, looking out at the land he had protected years ago. His eyes were glazed over, his breath reeked of booze, with needle marks up and down his arms and cigarette in-between his fingers.

Kane sighed some, his cigarette getting shorter by the second. He shook his head some and dropped the stub on the ground and crushed it under his boot. His head was throbbing, he needed another drink.

The veteran hadn't aged gracefully, his hair was completely grey now, and his scars were ever more evident. He had kept in shape through pure habit of working out, but every other trace of his military career was cast aside.

His beard was unkempt and his hair long and shaggy. He looked like a broken man, and that was exactly what he was. Kane stood to shuffle over to the bar for another drink when the elevator doors opened.

He looked drunkenly over at the elevator, and saw a man half his age walking towards him in a neatly kept uniform, a folder in his hands.

"Who the hell are you?" Kane grumbled, his voice sounded strange to even himself.

The man looked around at the cocktail lounge with disgust before looking towards the drunk.

"My name is Captain Theodore Samson; it's a… pleasure to meet you, Colonel." The man said, struggling to hide his contempt.

"Colonel? There's no Colonel here… there hasn't been for a long time, son."

The Captain shook his head. "Oh? I thought that this was the residence of one Lieutenant Colonel Nicholas Kane, the famous war hero, are you saying I'm mistaken?"

Kane grunted some, sitting back down in his chair. "Yeah, ya are, the guy you're lookin' for has gotta be buried in the sand somewhere…"

"Then I don't suppose you'd mind if I tell Major Cassidy of the Colonel's death?" Theodore goaded, a smirk pressed onto his lips.

Kane winced, he hadn't heard that name in a long time, and it only brought more pain with it. "Boy, if you're lookin for some kinda hero, you're talkin' to the wrong drunk… try the Tops or something, just go away."

The smirk faded immediately. "Sir, I know you don't think highly of the NCR but your country needs you again."

"Oh, well isn't that just fan-fucking-tastic! The NCR needs me to save their sorry asses again!" He yelled, throwing his arms into the air. "When all they've ever done is used me, abused me, and threw me away when I got to be too much of a problem!"

"Sir-"

"No, you shut the fuck up right there, boy! I ain't doin' nothin' for nobody when look where it got me: grey hair well before my time, scars all over my body, a miserable, lonely existence, two lungs coated in tar, and a liver that probably looks like a relief map of the moon!"

"With all due respect sir, will you take a look at yourself? Do you see the shithole you seclude yourself to?" Theodore tossed the file onto Kane's lap. "That's your personnel file there, inside is the man that almost single handedly won the war against Caesar's Legion and killed the tyrant himself…"

Kane looked down at the file while Theodore continued.

"The Major warned me that you were in a bad place, but this is ridiculous. You were a hero, the most highly decorated soldier in NCR history, and an inspiration to a weary nation… now you're little more than a chem addict who blames everyone around him for his own downfall."

Kane glared at the man. "What are you trying to say?"

"You need a purpose to live sir… you are a fighter without a fight. I'm giving you the chance to find another one. I'm giving you a reason to live. I'm giving you the thing you've been searching for, for twelve years… All I need you to do, is come down to Camp McCarran, and talk to the Major and if you still want to be a recluse, then that's your choice, just at least hear us out."

The young Captain turned and left the cocktail lounge, the elevator doors closing behind him, leaving Kane by himself in the dark, musty room.


	2. Chapter 2

Kane flipped through the personnel file that Theodore had left him. It was thicker than he'd imagined and almost everything contained inside was classified in some way or another. He spent hours reading reports, complaints, praises, government documents, and casualty lists, all associated with him in some way or another.

His desire for a drink faded, and his need for chems disappeared as he enveloped himself in his past. He smiled softly, remembering the pride he had once felt, the honor that had been bestowed upon him, until he came to the final page. It was a psychological report on him, or more specifically, his descent into depravity. He saw that the politicians and military brass regarded him as a failure that would hopefully die before he could cause any more complications.

At the end of the psychological evaluation, there was a hand written note:

_I can say with a great amount of certainty that Lieutenant Colonel Nicholas Kane will die alone within a decade, due to excessive drinking and smoking. His recklessness and audacity will be noted for future generations of soldiers and leaders as a precautionary tale, and eventually history will regard him as a waste of a human being._

That was it.

That was the last straw. Kane growled and threw the file aside, standing from his chair and marching to the elevator. He went up to his penthouse on top of the Lucky 38 and went to work. He injected addiction nullifying chems into his bloodstream, washed, shaved, and went into his bedroom. He immediately came to a large airtight locker and opened it with a hiss.

Inside was the remnants of a past he had just hours ago been trying to forget. He slowly put his uniform on; a bit surprised it still fit him, and began to load up with his usual assortment of weapons, along with a few others. His .45 Auto pistol was a nice addition, and its silencer was sure to come into play eventually. His Scoped Trail Carbine was slung over his back, replacing the Marksman Carbine. He strapped a combat knife to his right calf and sheathed his Machete Gladius. Finally, he came to the two weapons he had wielded proudly: two custom .44 Magnums.

"Hey babies, you miss me?" he grinned at the pistols before holstering them.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's been a while, but finally I decided to finish it. I've been busy the past few months and this has become my most dreaded series in my opinion. Looking back at it the wiring seems horribly off and elementary… but it's my most popular. I shall put effort into this story once more, starting the next chapter. I hope you will enjoy it, as I will end the series with this story. Thank you.

Sincerely,

William


End file.
